Vik (Shot Callers 2)

“I’m dancing again,” she repeated.

My eyes narrowed. “You never said anything.”

“Well—” Irritated, she retorted a little sharply. “—you haven’t really been around, Nas.”

Her shot met its target, and my gut sank.

She was right. I hadn’t been.

Pushing down the sudden guilt I felt, I slowly let out a doubtful, “You’re telling me you look like this from… dance?”

There was no light in her eyes. “Yes.” She licked her lips and laughed humorlessly. “You’d be surprised how hard it is to get back into it when you’ve taken seven years off. My body isn’t as flexible as it used to be. I’ve fallen down over and over again. I twisted my ankle last week. It was the reason I wore flats to work.”

Yeah, I wondered about that.

The red flag in my mind continued to wave. But I had no real reason to doubt her.

My cynical nature had me asking, “You’d tell me if you were in trouble, right?”

Anika blinked a moment before she looked up at me without an ounce of emotion and said, “You’re the only person I trust.”

My bullshit meter went off when I noticed she didn’t quite answer my question. My love for my friend, however, told me that Anika wouldn’t keep secrets. Not from me.

Calming slightly, I took another look at her back, and out came a brutally honest, “You look like shit, babe.”

Anika laughed then. A real laugh. Musical, tinkling laughter. And the longer it went on, the tightness in my stomach loosened. Even more so when she looked at me and the warmth had returned to her eyes. “I know.”

I loved Anika. She wasn’t just a friend. She was family. And I protected my family.

If anyone even attempted to hurt her, I would kill them without hesitation.

“I worry about you,” I disclosed grudgingly.

Immediately, she returned, “I worry about you,” a sharp brow rising with meaning.

Yeah, okay. I got the point. We had to communicate better.

I blew out a long breath. “I’ve been a shitty friend.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I should’ve pushed harder. Made you talk to me.”

So, I guess I wasn’t the only one feeling lacking and guilt-ridden.

When Anika was finished with her bath, I helped her into a high-necked, tight black dress with long sleeves that hid her bruises. My every instinct yelled at me to keep a closer eye on my friend. And if I found something was wrong, not even God could stop me from getting answers.

Anika exited the bathroom, and while Mina whooped, Cora let out a loud wolf whistle. Like the awesome people they were, they hyped Anika up until she was laughing awkwardly, completely red in the face at the nonstop compliments.

Once I outfitted myself in the little dusty-rose dress that came off the shoulders and into long sleeves, I slipped into nude peep-toe heels and grabbed my matching nude clutch. With a final look in the mirror, I fluffed my hair, the long, dark tresses falling down my back in waves, then applied a mauve-pink lipstick, and we were good to go.

It was 8:00 p.m. when we arrived at a little Italian place none of us had been to before, and one look at the menu had me salivating. It held all my favorites.

Carbs, carbs, and more carbs.

Our food arrived, and we ate enthusiastically. We talked loudly to be heard over the dinner crowd, laughing with each other. The going consensus was that we all officially loved this restaurant. Another few drinks and easy conversation followed. When I got up to use the restroom, I sneakily took care of the check, much to the annoyance of the girls.

Whatever. They’d get over it.

Close to 10:00 p.m., we all hopped in a cab and arrived at our destination soon after.

My stomach clenched in excitement as we skipped the line and headed on in. It was the hottest nightclub in New York, and, lucky for us, my cousins owned it.

Smiling, laughing, and chatting away, we eagerly entered The White Rabbit.

5

Nastasia

The club was packed, and the sea of bodies on the dance floor seemed to move as one in waves along to the thick, sticky beat of the music. Anticipation bubbled up inside me. I knew I wasn’t the only one, because we all just stood there, smiling down at the throng of patrons. We needed to let loose. Needed it.

If we were going to let our hair down anywhere, this was the place.

The Alice in Wonderland-themed nightclub had a reputation for being elite, and you could see why. The big black-and-white tiles on the dance floor warped and swayed, twisting, becoming smaller and smaller as it reached the middle, opening up to the illusion of falling down a hole. A rabbit hole, to be precise. There was a colossal statue of the Cheshire cat to the right that people lined up to take selfies with. Servers in all shapes, sizes, and colors walked around in skimpy costumes, holding trays. They were either dressed as Alice, in long blonde wigs, tiny blue pinafore dresses with puffy sleeves, white fishnets, and white pumps, or they were dressed as sexy white rabbits, hair up in a high ponytail with a poofy white tail, long fluffy ears, white stockings, and a black-painted nose with whiskers.